


The Contrary Musings of Iba Hachiro: A Monster of the Lascivious Kind

by Shoujothoughts



Category: Hakuoki, Hakuouki
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, Demons, F/M, Lust, it is important to Iba's route, just warning you, nothing graphic, okay?, this is not smut; this is a mature character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 08:31:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14256987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shoujothoughts/pseuds/Shoujothoughts
Summary: This arc is critical to the development of one of my favorite Hakuouki characters, and it couldn’t *not* be touched upon if I hoped to do him justice. Like the other Hakuouki drabbles I’ve written, it came naturally as moment that needed to be shared. In that way, it isn’t smut. It isn’t intended for gratification, but character study.Warning: Iba Hachiro character spoilers from Hakuouki: Edo Blossoms. ⚠





	The Contrary Musings of Iba Hachiro: A Monster of the Lascivious Kind

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if I'm allowed to use a screen shot like this, so if I'm not, please tell me...? I will fix this issue. <3

                                                    

He bolts upright with a moan or a gasp, green orbs wide and quivering; his face contorts and body shudders as he rides on shameful echoes of desire.

Falling backward toward the futon with a groan, he presses his palms into his eyes and clenches his sweaty bangs. He pictures her smiling face and again that face in the throws of unstrung passion:

these are the contrary musings of Iba Hachiro, but perhaps they’re not so contrary after all.

Was he never one to linger in the bathhouse, to imagine the perk of her small breasts pressed against his back, or to imagine her face were he to ghost his lips along her inner thighs? Could he blame the demon within for perfecting his boyish fantasies into something both more instinctually amorous and more pleasurably carnal?

No! He lets his hands fall and stares at the ceiling; she’s sleeping now in a room down the hall, and he imagines it again. She’s crying out, panting his name as she writhes beneath him, and his fingers know exactly where to graze to make her scream in rapturous agony.

He grits his teeth and flips, gripping the pillow atop his head and hating himself. He feels like a cat in heat. He wants to die.

This is not the Iba Hachiro he once knew. These are not the fantasies of a man in love, but of a demon lost to his desires wherein nothing matters but his own take.

She slumbers peacefully on–resting without pause that she shares quarters with a monster of the lascivious kind.

And even now he wonders what he wouldn’t give to preserve that innocence in her.


End file.
